JANE JONEs 

AND SOME OTHERS 




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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



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JANE JONES 
AND SOME OTHERS 



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Nothing to do but work, 
Nothing to eat but food, 







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JANE JONES 

AND SOME OTHERS 





BY 




BEN KING 




ILLUSTRATIONS BY 




JOHN A. WILLIAMS 



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CHICAGO 

FORBES & COMPANY 

1909 




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Copyright, 1894, 1898, 
By Aseneth Bell King 



Copyright, 1909, By 
Forbes and Company 



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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Jane Jones 9 

The Pessimist 12 

If I Should Die 14 

When the Stage Gits In 15 

If My Wife Taught School .... 17 

Elopement 19 

Like the New Friends Best ....... 21 

Her Folks an' Hiz'n 23 

That Valentine 26 

'Rastus King 27 

Mary Had a Cactus Plant 30 

Say When, and Say It 31 

Dreamy Days 33 

If I Can Be by Her 34 

The Hair-Tonic Bottle . . . . . .36 

The Yaller Jackets' Nest 38 

Sycamore 40 

Keep Him a Baby 44 

A Summer's Afternoon 46 

The Bung Town Canal 48 

Lovey-Loves 52 

Benton Harbor, Mich 58 
















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PAGE 

That Cat . 57 

'Cause It 's Gittin' Spring .... 58 

The Ultimatum 60 

She Does Not Hear 62 

The Day and the Shingle .... 64 

The River St. Joe 67 

Baby Up at Battenberg's 70 

The Cat O' Nine Tails 72 

Old St. Joe . .75 

Hank Spink 78 

The Woodticks 80 

The Tramp 82 

Coming Christmas Morn 83 

How Often 87 

Didn't We, Jim? . . . . . . .88 

St. Patrick's Day 91 

The Cow Slips Away 93 







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ILLUSTRATIONS 



Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

. . . 10 



" Nothing to do but work, 

Nothing to eat but food/' . 

" Jane Jones she honestly said it was so ! 
Mebbe he did, — I dunno ! " 

" And you should come in deepest grief and woe — 
And say: 'Here's that ten dollars that I owe/" 14 

" I 'in down at the parson's with Mary; 

It 's rather a private affair; " 20 . 

" The sisters they told — this is 'tween you an' I — 
'At they thought she wanted her husband to die: " 24 

" Placed it in a chair he did, 

Then laughed with ghoulish glee — " . . . SO ^ 

" An' s-s-s-stand out on the c-c-c-oldest day, 

If I can b-b-b-be by her." 34 



" An' book agents an' other scamps, 
He 'd give 'em all a chase — " 

' 'Twas the close of a summer's day, 
The sound of the flail had died away," 



40 



46 



Oh, chide not the love when its lovey-love loves 

With lovable, loving carresses; .... 52 



FACING PAGE 

" The popple leaves is quiv'rin' 'cause the wind is 

in the west, 
An' the robin 's round a-hookin' straws to build 

hisself a nest; " 58 

" I take a recumbent position, 

The shingle then comes into play/' (iA 

" Doctor whispers suthin' — 

Daddy hollers: 'No!'" « . . 70 

" They ain't no purtier sight to me — 
Than jest to watch the gulls 'at fly " . . 76 

" And when he left the kitchen door 

He took the garden walk." 82 

" She told us, our ma did, when she 's sick in bed, 

An' out of the Bible some verses read," ... 88 







J AXE JONES keeps talkin' to me all the 
time, 

An' says you must make it a rule 
To study your lessons an' work hard an' 

learn, 
An' never be absent from school. 
Remember the story of Elihu Burritt, 
An' how he clum up to the top, 
Got all the knowledge 'at he ever had 
Down in a blacksmithing shop? 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so! 

Mebbe he did, — I dunno ! 
O' course what 's a-keepin' me way from 

the top, 
Is not never havin' no blacksmithing shop. 



She said 'at Ben Franklin was awfully poor, 
But full of ambition an' brains; 
An' studied philosophy all his hull life, 
An' see what he got for his pains! 
He brought electricity out of the sky, 

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With a kite an' a bottle an' key, 
An' we 're owing him more 'n any one else 
For all the bright lights 'at we see. 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so! 

Mebbe he did, — I dunno ! 
O' course what 's allers been hmderin' me 
Is not havin' any kite, lightning, er key. 

Jane Jones said Abe Lincoln had no books 

at all 
An' used to split rails when a boy; 
An' General Grant was a tanner by trade 
An' lived way out in Ill'nois. 
So when the great war in the South first 

broke out 
He stood on the side o' the right, 
An' when Lincoln called him to take charge 

o' things, 
He won nearly every blamed fight. 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so! 

Mebbe he did, — I dunno ! 
Still I ain't to blame, not by a big sight, 
For I ain't never had any battles to fight. 








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jane Jones she honestly said it was so! 
Mebbe he did, — I dunno' 








She said 'at Columbus was out at the knees 
When he first thought up his big scheme, 
An' told all the Spaniards an' Italians, too, 
An' all of 'em said 'twas a dream, 
But Queen Isabella jest listened to him, 
An' pawned all her jewels o' worth, 
An' bought him the Santa Maria an' said, 
"Go hunt up the rest o' the earth!" 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so! 

. Mebbe he did, — I dunno! 
O' course that may be, but then you must 

allow 
They ain't no land to discover jest now! 






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THE PESSIMIST 

NOTHING to do but work, 
Nothing to eat but food, 
Nothing to wear but clothes 

To keep one from going nude= 

Nothing to breathe but air, 
Quick as a flash 't is gone ; 

Nowhere to fall but off, 

Nowhere to stand but on. 



Nothing to comb but hair, 

Nowhere to sleep but in bed, 

Nothing to weep but tears, 

Nothing to bury but dead. 

Nothing to sing but songs, 
All, well, alas! alack! 

Nowhere to go but out, 

Nowhere to come but back. 






Nothing to see but sights, 

Nothing to quench but thirst, 
12 












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Nothing to have but what we Ve got; 
Thus through life we are cursed. 

Nothing to strike but a gait; 

Everything moves that goes. 
Nothing at all but common sense 

Can ever withstand these woes. 



18 






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IF I SHOULD DIE 



IF I should die to-night 
And you should come to my cold corpse 
and say, 
Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay — 

If I should die to-night 
And 3^ou should come in deepest grief and 

woe — 
And say: "Here 's that ten dollars that I owe," 
I might arise in my large white cravat, 
And say, "What 's that?" 

If I should die to-night 
And you should come to my cold corpse and 

kneel, 
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, 

I say, if I should die to-night 
And you should come to me, and there and then 
Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten, 

I might arise the while, 

But I 'd drop dead again. 



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And you should come in deepest grief and woe- 
And say: "Here 's that ten dollars that I owe, 



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WHEN THE STAGE GITS IN 

PAP 11 git a letter, 'nd Uncle Zed a 
book, 
'Nd Aunty Jane expects 'er magazine; 
'Nd school '11 all be out, 
'Nd the children run 'nd shout, 
While a-playin' "one-old-cat" out on the 
green. 
'Nd the men 'at 's in the orocerv store 
'LI come outside 'nd stand 
'Nd talk, 'nd look around 'nd grin; 

Fer the folks down at the post-office 
A-standin' all around 
Are happy when the stage gits in. 

Ma has done the bakin', 'nd made some patty 

cakes, 
'Nd Lizzie has done the sweepin' all alone; 
'Nd she 's dustin' up the furniture 
'Nd settin' things about, 
'Cause tomorry we 're expectin' Aunt Se'- 
phrone. 

15 







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Nan has had 'er hair did up 

In papers all night long, 
'Nd to-day she 's a-f rizzin' it ag'in ; 
I bet you any money she 's expectin' some 

one, too, 
'At '11 be here when the stage gits in. 

When you see the yaller cat begin a-washin' 

up, 
'Nd 'er hind leg pinted over that way, some 

Folkses allers say it is 

The surest kind o' sign 
'At company is liable to come. 
'Nd when the parlor 's opened a sort o' funny 

smell 
Comes 'cause the fire 's kindled up ag'in ; 

We 're goin' to have a high old time 

'Nd all our relatives 
'LI be here when the stage gits in. 



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IF MY WIFE TAUGHT SCHOOL 

FF I had a wife 'at taught school I would go 
A To far-awav countries. I 'd fish from the 

Po 
In a gondola gay, and the splash o' my oar 
Would be heard by the natives around Singa- 
pore 

If my wife taught school, 
I would, would n't you ? 
Er would n't you ? 
Anyway, what would you do? 



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If I had a wife 'at taught school I would get 
Something fine in the shape of a furniture set ; 
If I could pay my board and she could pay 

her'n 
There 's a good many nice little things I 
could earn. 

If my wife taught school, 
I would, would n't you? 
Er wouldn't you? 
Anyway, what would you do? 
17 













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If my wife taught school you can bet I would 

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Like a condor, I 'd roost pretty middlin' high; 
I 'd wear a silk tile and own hosses, I vow, 
And do lots of things I ain't doin' now. 

If my wife taught school, 

I would, would n't you? 

Er would n't you ? 

Anyway, what would you do? 

If my wife taught school like some women do, 
And I could n't earn quite enough for us 

two, 
I 'd go in the barnyard, without any fuss, 
I would blow out my brains with a big blunder- 
buss. 

If my wife taught school, 
I would, would n't you? 
Er wouldn't you? 
Anyway, what would you do? 



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ELOPEMENT 

'M out at the home of my Mary, 
A Mary so young and so fair, 
But her father and mother 
And sister and brother 

And all of the family are there. 



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I 'm now on the sofa with Mary, 
Mary with bright, golden hair; 

But her father and mother 

And sister and brother 

And all of the family are there. 






I 'm way up the river with Mary, 
Picnicking in the cool air; 

But her father and mother 

And sister and brother 

And all of the family are there. 



I 'm in the surf bathing with Mary; 

Her form is beyond compare; 
But her father and mother 

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And sister and brother 

And all of the family are there. 

I 'm down at the parson's with Mary ; 

It 's rather a private affair ; 
But her father and mother 
And sister and brother 

Well — none of the family is there. 



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I 'm down at the parson's with Mary 
It 's rather a private affair; 



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LIKE THE NEW FRIENDS BEST 






DON'T talk to me of old time friends, 
But jest give me the new. 
The old friends may be good enough, 
But somehow they won't do, 
I don't care for their old time ways; 
Their questions you '11 allow 
Are soulless as a parrot's gab: — 
"Well, what you up to now?" 
That 's one thing I 've agin 'em, 
'Cause that with all the rest, 
Like hintin' 'bout some old time debt; 
I like my new friends best. 






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I meet an old friend in the street, 
As oftentimes I do, 
Mechanically he stops to shake 
An' say: "Well, how are you?" 
Then drawin' clown his face, as if 
His cheeks was filled with lead, 
He says: "I spose you 've heard the news?' 
"No!" "Eli Stubbs is dead. 

21 



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An' 'fore he died he ast for you — 

Seemed sorry you was gone, 

An' said 'at what he 'd let you have 

He hoped would help you on." 

Now that 's why I don't like 'em much, 

You prob'bly might have guessed. 

I ain't got much agin 'em, but 

I like the new friends best. 

Old friends are most too home-like now 
They know your age, an' when 
You got expelled from school, an' lots 
Of other things, an' then 
They 'member when you shivereed 
The town an' broke the lights 
Out of the school 'nen run away 
An' played "Hunt Cole" out nights. 
They 'member when you played around 
Your dear old mommy's knee ; 
It 's them can tell the very date 
That you got on a spree. 
I don't like to forget 'em, yet 
If put right to the test 
Of hankerin' right now for 'em, 
I like the new friends best. 

22 




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HER FOLKS AN' HIZ'N 

E maird her 'cause she had money an' 

some 

Property left from her husband's income; 
But both of the families was awfully stirred, 
An' said the worst things 'at the town ever 
heard. 

An' her folks an' hiz'n, 
Er hiz'n an' her'n, 
Never spoke to each other, 
From what I can learn. 



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His folks begun it an' jest said 'at she 
Was the worst actin' thing they ever did see; 
An' ought to be ashamed fer bein' so bold, 
'Cause her husband he had n't had time to 
get cold. 

An' her folks an' hiz'n, 

Er hiz'n an' her'n, 

Never spoke to each other, 

From what I can learn. 





24 



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Her folks they all set up 'at he was no good, 
An' if 'twas n't f er her — well, he 'd have to 

saw wood. 
Then all of her kin, every blasted relation, 
Said she 'd lowered herself in their estima- 
tion, 

So her folks an' hiz'n, 

Er hiz'n an' her'n, 

Never spoke to each other, 

From what I can learn. 



The sisters they told — this is 'tween you an* 

I— 
'At they thought she wanted her husband to 

die: 
An' they whispered around — but don't you 

lisp a word — 
The awfulest things that a soul ever heard. 
So her folks an' hiz'n, 
Er hiz'n an' her'n, 
Never spoke to each other, 
From what I can learn. 




The sisters they told — this is 'tween you an' I— 
'At they thought she wanted her husband to die: 



They said that a travelin' man er a drummer, 
Who stopped at the hotel a long time last 

summer, 
That he — no it was n't that now — let me see — 
That she — er something like that, seems to me. 

Well, her folks an' hiz'n, 

Er hiz'n an' her'n, 

Never spoke to each other, 

From what I can learn. 

I hear 'at the families keep up the old fight, 
A-roastin' each other from mornin' till night ; 
But the young maird couple they 've moved 

to the city, 
Where gossip don't go ; but I think it a pity 

That her folks an' hiz'n, 

An' hiz'n an' her'n, 

Never speak to each other, 

From what I can learn. 



25 



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THAT VALENTINE 

ONCE, I remember, years ago, 
I sent a tender valentine; 
I know it caused a deal of woe. 
Once, I remember, years ago, 
Her father's boots were large, you know, 

I do regret the hasty line, 
Once, I remember, years ago, 
I sent a tender valentine. 




I know I never shall forget 

I sent a tender valentine. 
Somehow or other I regret, 
But how I never can forget, 
But then, I know, I know I met 

Her father. Oh, what grief was mine. 
I know I never shall forget 

I sent a tender valentine. 






26 



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'RASTUS KING 

AS you happen jest to mention 
Old time friends 'at sort o' bring 
Mem'ries back, I 'd like to ask 
What's become o' 'Rastus King? 



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Did he go out west prospectin' 
Far on Calif orny's rim? 

Did he settle with the Injuns, 
Or did the Injuns settle him? 

What a great big-hearted feller 
'Rastus was, an' how he'd sing! 

Sometimes tears '11 start to rollin' 
When I think o' 'Rastus King. 



Where is he an' what's come o' him? 

Is he toilin' hard fer bread? 
Is he prosperous an' wealthy? 

Is he livin' still, or dead? 



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How my heart recalls the mornin' 
That I met him. Splittin' wood, 

Payin' fer his school tuition, 
Earnin' thus a livelihood. 

Allers boarded at the neighbors, 
Turned his hand at anything; 

Faithful, honest; well, the farmers 
Simply swore by 'Rastus King. 

Find him down to meetin' Sundays 
Sittin' in the deacon's pew; 

Talk about yer knowledge; he had 
Read the Bible through an' through. 

When the choir would jine together 
An' with the congregation sing, 

Way above all other voices 

You could hear him — 'Rastus King. 

Did you ever come to meet him? 

Do you think he 's livin' here ? 
Say, he ain't much older 'n I am ; 

Reckon now he 's sixty year. 
28 







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Last I heerd he 's doin' splendid, 
Rich, fast horses, everything. 

Jest like him, a regular schemer; 
Oh! I knew him, 'Rastus King. 

Then the hackman I 'd been asking 
All these questions thus did say: 
' 'Rastus livin' purty quiet; 
Don't go out at all, they say." 

"Don't go out at all — why, stranger? 

What 's the matter? Did he fail?" 
"Well," said he, "nothin 's the matter 

Stephen, only he 's in jail." 



29 



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MARY HAD A CACTUS PLANT 

MARY had a cactus plant, 
So modestly it grew, 
Shooting its little fibers out 
It lived upon the dew. 

Her little brother often heard 

Her say it lived on air, 
And so he pulled it up one day 

And placed it in a chair. 

Placed it in a chair he did, 

Then laughed with ghoulish glee — 
Placed it in the old arm-chair 

Under the trysting tree. 

Nor thought of Mary's lover, 

Who called each night to woo, 

Or even dreamed they 'd take a stroll, 
As lovers often do. 

The eve drew on. The lover came, 
They sought the trysting tree. 

Where has the little cactus gone? 
The lover — where is he? 
30 






Placed it in a chair he did, 

Then laughed with ghoulish glee — 



SAY WHEN, AND SAY IT 



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WRITE me a poem that has n't been writ, 
Sing me a song that has n't been sung 

yet, 

String out a strain that has n't been strung, 
And ring me a chime that has n't been rung 
yet. 

Paint me a picture but leave out the paint, 
Pile up a pile of old scenes of my schoolery. 

Leave me alone ; I would fain meditate 

And mourn o'er the moments I lost in tom- 
foolery. 

Tell me a tale that dropped out of a star, 
Push me a pun that is pungent, not earthy. 

I must have something sharp, strident, and 
strong 
To eke out a laugh or be moderately mirthy. 



Give me a love that has never been loved, 
Not knowing the glance of the bold and un- 
wary, 

31 




A cherub abreast with the saints up above, 
And I '11 get along and be passably merry. 

But come on the fly to me, come on the jump, 
Don't hang around on the outskirts and 
walk to me; 
Throw out your chest well, and hold up your 
head ; 
Say when, and say it, or else don't you talk 
to me. 



32 






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DREAMY DAYS 

OH! the dreamy days of youth, 
In appearance how uncouth, 
As we waded through the frog ponds and 

The ditches. 
With big patches on each knee, 
And where they hadn't ought to be. 
Oh! the days when one suspender 
Held our breeches. 

Oh! the dreamy days of yore, 

And the slippery cellar door. 

Oh! that cherry tree whose fruit we oft 

Were testing. 
Then we 'd wait till after tea, 
When we 'd sing with doleful glee. 
Oh! how often mother made it 

Interesting. 



33 



IF I CAN BE BY HER 

T D-D-DON'T c-c-c-are how the r-r-r-obin 
A sings, - 

Er how the r-r-r-ooster f-f -flaps his wings, 
Er whether 't sh-sh-shines, er whether 't pours, 
Er how high up the eagle s-s-soars, 
If I can b-b-b-be by her. 



I don't care if the p-p-p-people s-say 
'At I 'm weak-minded every -w-way, 
An' n-n-never had no cuh-common sense, 
I 'd c-c-c-climb the highest p-picket fence 
If I could b-b-b-be by her. 

If I can be by h-h-her, I '11 s-s-swim 
The r-r-r-est of life thro' th-th-thick an' thin ; 
I '11 throw my overcoat away, < 

An' s-s-s-stand out on the c-c-c-oldest day, 
If I can b-b-b-be by her. 

You s-s-see, sh-sh-she weighs an awful pile, 
B-b-b-but I d-d-d-don't care— sh-she 's just 
my style, 

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An' s-s-s-stand out on the c-c-c-coldest day 
If I can b-b-b-be by her. 



An' any f-f-fool could p-p-p-lainly see 
She 'd look well b-b-b-by the side of me, 
If I could b-b-b-be by her. 

I b-b-b-braced right up, an' had the s-s-s-and 
To ask her f-f-f -father f-f-fer her hand; 
He said: "Wh-wh-what p-p-prospects have 

you got?" 
I said: "I gu-gu-guess I Ve got a lot, 

If I can b-b-b-be bv her." 

*> 

It 's all arranged f-f-fer Christmas Day, 

Per then we 're goin' to r-r-r-run away, 

An' then s-s-some th-th-thing that cu-cu-could 

n't be 
At all b-b-before will then, you s-s-see, 

B-b-b-because I '11 b-b-b-be by her. 



35 




THE HAIR-TONIC BOTTLE 

HOW dear to my heart is the old village 
drug store, 
When tired and thirsty it comes to my 
view. 
The wide-spreading sign that asks you to 
"Try it," 
Vim, Vaseline, Vermifuge, Hop Bitters, 
too. 
The old rusty stove and the cuspidor by it, 
That little back room. Oh ! you Ve been 
there yourself, 
And ofttimes have gone for the doctor's pre- 
scription, 
But tackled the bottle that stood on the 
shelf. 

The friendly old bottle, 
The plain-labeled bottle, 
The "Hair-Tonic" bottle that stood on the 
shelf. 



36 



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How oft have I seized it with hands that were 
glowing, 
And guzzled awhile ere I set off for home; 
I owned the whole earth all that night, but 
next morning 
My head felt as big as the Capitol's dome. 
And then how I hurried away to relieve it, 
The druggist would smile o'er his poisonous 
pelf, 
And laugh as he poured out his unlicensed 
bitters, 
And filled up the bottle that stood on the 
shelf. 

The unlicensed bottle, 
The plain-labeled bottle, 
That "Hair-Tonic" bottle that stood on the 
shelf. 






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THE YALLER JACKETS' NEST 

IF I could only wander back 
To boyhood jest one day, 
So'st' I could have my chice agin 

Of games we used to play, 
I 'd let the kites an' marbles go, 
An' say, "Come on, boys! let's 
All go out a-huntin' fer 
The yaller jackets' nest." 



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Jest to lay up in the shadder 

Of the fence once agin 
Of the old vacant lot 

'At the cows pastured in, 
Where the dandelions were bloomin,' 

An' there take a rest, 
While you listen to the music 

Round the yaller jackets' nest. 

There was one 'at allers went along 
An' romped with us an' raced, 

With her sunbonnet a-hangin' back 
An' curls down to 'er waist, 
38 










In the checkered little frock she wore 
Of gingham, — what a pest 

She was to us when huntin' fer 
The yaller jackets' nest. 






It 's the prime of the blossoms 

'At 's a-hangin' from the trees 
An' the music of the buzzin' 

'At brings lonesome memories, 
Fer it seems as if I heerd 'er say 

"You better look out, lest 
They all swarm out an' sting you 

From the yaller jackets' nest." 



Sometimes I think I hear 'er voice 

An' see 'er eyes of blue, 
That borried all their color from 

The sky 'at peeks at you 
Between the clouds in summer 

After rain has fell an' blessed 
The flowers an' openin' blossoms 

Round the yaller jackets' nest. 



39 



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SYCAMORE 

PECOOLIARITY of his bark, 
An' yit not only that, 
We found him every mornin' on 

The front piazza mat. 
So Cenath got ter likin' him, 
An' one day says ter me, 
"I m goin' ter call him Sycamore, 
He sticks so cluss," says she. 

She used ter sic him on the tramps 

That come aroun' the place, 
An' book agents an' other scamps, 

He 'd give 'em all a chase — 
He scooted over fences, an' 

Aroun' the farm he 'd run, 
An' then come back an' wag his tail 

As if he 'd been havin' fun. 

I never had ter sic him on 

Ter any livin' thing, 
I 've seed that dog take arter birds, 

Yes, birds 'at 's on the wing, 
40 





An' book agents an' other scamps, 
He 'd give 'em all a chase — 



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tCi 




An' chase 'em 'bout a mild er so, 
Ter see 'f they would n't light; 

Then he 'd sit down an' watch 'em till 
They flew clean out o' sight. 

The dangdest dog he was ter hunt, 

An' had the keenes' scent; 
One day he smelled an animile, 

An' after him he went. 
Towards dark he come a-laggin' back, 

An' any one could tell 
That Sycamore had captured him, 

We knew it mighty well. 

He pulled out every rooster's tail 

I had aroun' the coop, 
An' kept our yaller Thomas cat 

Hid underneath the stoop. 
An' when a vehicle druv by 

He 'd skoot out thro' the door 
An' sic 'em down the dusty road 

A half a mild er more. 

He 'd lay behin' the hottest stove 
An' bark out in his sleep, 
41 

\07i 0/"( 






(3% 




>v_r 



An' work his jints an' try ter run 
As if he was chasin' sheep, 

Till last he took a fit one day 

An' stagger'd round the floor; 

We thought one time he would n't live 
Ter sic 'em any more. 

He had fun with a peddler onct, 

An' chased him round the well. 
I wish as you 'd a jest been there 

An' heerd that feller yell: 
"Git out! Git out! Call off yer dog!" 

He thought his jig was up. 
Says I: "Don't be afraid o' him, 

He 's nothin' more 'n a pup." 

He used ter sic the thunder, too, 

An' 't used ter give us pain 
Ter see him set out in a storm 

An' bark up at the rain. 
He 'd shift his head t' one side 

When he 'd hear the thunder roar, 
An' then bark all the harder 'f I'd say 

"Sic 'em, Sycamore!" 

42 



He sict all of my neighbor's sheep, 

An' did a pile o' harm; 
He took my horses an' my colts 

An' raced 'em round the farm. 
I jest can see him runnin' yit, 

His tail a-flyin' high, 
But why it is we 're mournin' now 

Is how he come ter die. 

I sold him ter a farmer 'cause 

He got so cross an' mean, 
When one day long in harves' time 

He jumpt a thrash machine. 
They said he give one little yelp — 

An' then went up the spout. 
Poor Sycamore got harvested, 

That 's what we 're sad about. 

We mourn ter think our dear old friend 

At last got "squeezed in wheat." 
They found his collar — tail — some hair — 

The rest was sausage meat. 
His gentle bark had sailed away 

Far ter some canine shore. 
My wife shed tears an' said, "Poor dog, 

He never '11 sic 'em more." 



l ^f^am 



xy 







KEEP HIM A BABY 

KEEP him a baby as long as you can; 
Bless him, the dear little, cute, cunning 
man! 

Keep him in dresses, and apron, and bib; 
Rock him to sleep in his own little crib. 

Keep him a baby enjoying his toys — 
Soon enough he will be one of the boys; 
Keep him a baby and keep him at home — 
Manhood will very soon cause him to roam. 

Ofttimes at night when he wakes for a frolic, 
Don't get excited — it 's only the colic ; 
When he has reason your slumbers to mar, 
Get up and walk with him, just as you are. 



First it is Winslow and then it is squills, 
Then you will find one or two doctor's bills, 
Though he 's a trouble at times, it is true, 
When he grows up he will take care of you. 




>* 









Keep him a baby still taking his nap, 
Don't you chastise him for any mishap; 
When he falls off a sofa or chair, 
Don't stop his crying by calling a bear. 

Keep him a baby and do as I say; 

Take him to ride in his carriage each day; 

Show him the bossie, the horse and the bow- 
wow ; 

Soon you will hear him say "moo!" to the 
cow. 

Keep him a baby: he'll soon be a boy, 
Then he '11 forsake every plaything and toy ; 
Keep him a baby — he '11 soon be a man, 
Keep him a baby as long as you can. 



45 



^i%y 






A SUMMER'S AFTERNOON 

?r 1 1 WAS the close of a summer's day, 

A The sound of the flail had died away, 
The sun was shedding a lingering gleam, 
And the teakettle sung with its load of steam. 
The old clock ticked that hung on the wall 
And struck with the same old cuckoo call; 
Then oft I could hear the mournful bay 
Of some watch-dog far away. 
Then all to onct piped in a jay. 
I just sot there with my senses gone, 
And the shadders of twilight a-creepin' on, 
With the eerie hum of the small pewees, 
Over there in the cedar trees, 
And the tinkle of bells in the marshy loam 
That told me the cows were coming home, 
And the sighing breeze came o'er the croft, 
But ah! comes a melody far more soft 
Than the troubled notes of a lydian lute 
Or the echoing strains of a fairy's flute; 
It bids me awaken and live and rejoice, 
'T is only the sound of Elviry's voice — 

46 




*w.,v> 



'T was the close of a summer's day, 
The sound of the flail had died awav. 



<■ 



Like an angel's whisper it comes to me: — 
"Wake up, you fool, and come to tea." 
And it ain't in the spring or it ain't in the fall, 
But the close of a summer's day, 

That 's all. 



47 



THE BUNG TOWN CANAL 

DO you remember, Tom, Billy, an' Sal, 
The old swimmin' days in the Bung 
Town Canal? 
The big millin' logs fast asleep on its banks, 
We used to jump off of an' cut up odd pranks 
In our tropical costume. We used to make 

Sal 
Go home when we swum in the Bung Town 
Canal. 

I never '11 f ergit it, an' 'tween you an' me, 
You 'member the place where the mill used 

to be? 
We had a long spring-board out there 'n we 'd 

scud 
An' jest go head foremost clean into the 

mud. 
I may fergit some things, but I never shall 
Fergit them old times round the Bung Town 

Canal. 



48 



x>? v 



Nobody need never say nothin' to me 
'Bout the Blue Danube River er banks of 

the Dee, 
They can't perduce sights like some 'at I 've 

seen 
Crawlin' up on its banks an' off in the green 
Old marsh where the scum an' malarier are, 
'S the pizenest things in the world out in there. 

Me an' John Price caught the gol blamedest 

thing, 
With six legs an' four fins an' a yaller-jack 

sting, 
Two eyes in its head an' two horns in its tail, 
An' it carried a shell on its back like a snail, 
So we tuck it home an' skeer'd mother an' 

Sal 
'Ith what we fished out of the Bung Town 

Canal. 

Once they 's a stranger 'at jest took a drink 
From the Bung Town Canal, an' course he 

didn't think 
What he was doin', an' after awhile 

49 



He went an' turned yeller, as yeller as bile; 
So doctors all went to perscribin' fer him, 
Makin' his chances a blamed sight more slim. 

What they all said was that he had a snake 
Way down in his stummick an' he better take 
One er two whiskeys 'fore eatin' each meal, 
Then in a week er two mebbe he 'd feel 
Better. So natcherly he tuck to drink, 
Usin' rye whiskey 'bout three months, I think. 

Course havin' snakes in the stummick is tough, 
But snakes is a-knowin' when they Ve got 

enough. 
So gittin' dissatisfied, most of 'em fled, 
Some hid in his boots an' some got in his bed. 
I argied the pint 'at he never 'd a died 
If they 'd a jest let 'em be on the inside. 

We buried him there where the low grasses 

creep, 
In a bed of pond-lilies we put him to sleep, 
Where the meddy-larks sing an' the cry of 

the loon, 

50 






An' the rice-hen is singin' a dolefuller tune. 
We left him alone, after writin' his gal 
Concernin' his death an' the Bung Town 
Canal. 

Oh, them barefooted days an' the spot where 

I 'd lay 
An' jest steep my hide in the glory o' day, 
A-hearin' the bulrushes whisper an' sigh, 
An' watchin' the shadder-clouds hurryin' by. 
How I long to go back there, with some old- 
time pal, 
An' dive off once again in the Bung Town 
Canal. 



51 



LOVEY-LOVES 

OH, love ! let us love with a love that loves, 
Loving on with a love forever ; 
For a love that loves not the love it should 
love — 
I wot such a love will sever. 
But, when two loves love this lovable love, 

Love loves with a love that is best; 
And this love-loving, lovable, love-lasting love 
Loves on in pure love's loveliness. 

Oh, chide not the love when its lovey-love loves 

With lovable, loving caresses ; 
For one feels that the lovingest love love can 
love, 
Loves on in love's own lovelinesses. 
And love, when it does love, in secret should 
love — 
'T is there where love most is admired; 
But the two lovey-loves that don't care where 
they love 
Make the public most mightily tired. 
52 




Oh, chide not the love when its lovey-love loves 
With lovable, loving caresses; 



J&^Wk. w^W^ 



BENTON HARBOR, MICH. 

SOMETIMES I ain't a thing to do, an' 
so jest fer the nonce, 

I think of things I didn't see out on Midway 
Plaisance. 

Although they claimed 'at every tribe an' na- 
tion, seems to me, 

Was represented, yit there 's some I simply 
didn't see. 

I went all through the Cairo Street, an' saw 
the Luxor great, 

I saw the South Sea Islanders, an' them from 
Congo State, 

I saw the Patagonians, but, durn it all, my 
wish 

Was more to see them funny folks from 

Benton Harbor, Mich. 




I took in all the buildin's that was prom'nent 

on the grounds, 
Got in with a C'lumbian guard an' we jest 

went the rounds. 

53 



M 



Y 




I says to him, "I 'm here this week to take 

the hull thing in; 
I might not git a chance to go against the 

thing agin. 
Outside o' horterculture an' some o' the smaller 

fruits 
I want to see them Wolverines at -s still 

a-wearin' boots. 
So don' show me no minin' er animals er fish, 
I 'd rather see them curios from 

Benton Harbor, Mich." 

What d' I care fer foreign folks 'at come 

from pagan lands? 
I 've heerd an' read enough of Paig, an' heerd 

the tom-tom bands. 
I Ve seen enough of Egypt, an' Algiers, an' 

ancient Rome, 
An' now I 'm jest a-spilin' fer somepin' right 

'round home. 
Why, gosh all Friday! Take yer Turks an' 

all yer foreign kit, 
I want to see them Wolverines, an' I ain't 

seen 'em yit; 

54 









Old Michigan I 'm after; seems as if I heerd 

the swish 
Of breakers like I used to in 

Benton Harbor, Mieh. 

So comin' out from there I says, "We '11 take 

another route; 
Course you may know yer business, but I know 

what I 'm about. 
I 'm on a hunt fer friends jest now, not Japs 

er Javanese, 
Er sore-eyed Esquimaux, er Coons, er bias- 
eyed Chinese. 
I've heerd enough of 'Hot! hot! hot!' got 

frightened at the roar 
Round Hagenbeck's, an' shook hands with the 

Sultan of Johore, 
Until I 'm simply tired out, an' now my only 

wish 
Is jest to see them old-time folks from 

Benton Harbor, Mich." 

I walked till I got dusty an' thought I 'd like 
to wash, 

55 




V 




. 









m 



When lookin' up I saw a tower — 't was Mich- 
igan, by gosh! 

"Come on," I says, "I '11 show you now some 
folks you never saw, 

Human bein's from Muskegon, Dowagiac, an' 
Saginaw ; 

Them folks 'at raises celery way out in Kal'- 
mazoo, 

Cassopolis, an' Globeville, an' Ypsilanti, too — 

St. Joe an' Berrien Centre." I guess I got 
my wish, 

I jined the jays an' we went back to 

Benton Harbor, Mich. 






^ 









a 



THAT CAT 

THE cat that comes to my window sill 
When the moon looks cold and the night 
is still — 
He comes in a frenzied state alone 
With a tail that stands like a pine tree cone, 
And says: "I have finished my evening lark, 
And I think I can hear a hound dog bark. 
My whiskers are froze and stuck to my chin. 
I do wish you 'd get up and let me in." 
That cat gits in. 

But if in the solitude of the night 
He does n't appear to be feeling right, 
And rises and stretches and seeks the floor, 
And some remote corner he would explore, 
And does n't feel satisfied just because 
There 's no good spot for to sharpen his 

claws, 
And meows and canters uneasy about, 
Beyond the least shadow of any doubt 
That cat gits out. 

57 













tt: 









'CAUSE IT S GITTIN' SPRING 

THE medder lark is pipin' forth a sweeter 
note to me, 
An' I hear the pewees over yonder in the cedar 

tree; 
The popple leaves is quiv'rin' 'cause the wind 

is in the west, 
An' the robin 's round a-hookin' straws to 

build hisself a nest; 
The blackbird he 's a-flashin' up the crimson 
on his wing. 

What 's the reason? 
Oh, the reason 's 'cause it 's gittin' spring. 

The old man 's got the rheumatiz an' stiff as 

he can be; 
Why it don't git settled weather 's moah 'n he 

can see? 
But when it clears off splendid, then he 's 

feared the crops is lost, 
An' he reckons jest a little wind 'ud keep 

away the frost. 

58 








The popple leaves isquiv'rin' 'cause the wind is in the west, 
An'the robin's round a-hookin' straws to build hisself a nest; 



The kitchen door is open; I can hear Elmiry 
sing. 

What's the reason? 
Oh, the reason 's 'cause it 's gittin' spring. 

The air is kind of sof t'nin' an' you think it 's 
goin' to storm; 

Sometimes it's kind of chilly, then again it 
comes off warm; 

An' jest when it 's the stillest you can hear 
the bullfrog's note, 

An' it 'pears as if he wondered how the frost 
got in his throat. 

The ducks an' geese are riotous, an' strain- 
in' hard to sing. 

What's the reason? 
Oh, the reason 's 'cause it 's gittin' spring. 



59 



i&zMh. 







y 



THE ULTIMATUM 

4 ^\7'OJJ can decorate your office 

*> With a thousand gilded signs, 
And have upholstered furniture 

In quaint antique designs; 
Have the latest patent telephone 

Where you can yell 'Hello !' 
But," said she, "I just made up my mind 

That typewriter must go. 

"You can stay down at the office, 

As you have done, after hours; 
And if you are partial to bouquets, 

I '11 furnish you with flowers. 
You can spring the old club story 

When you come home late, you know, 
But, remember, I Ve made up my mind 

That typewriter must go. 

"You can let your bookkeepers lay off 

And see a game of ball; 
The office boy can leave at noon 

Or not show up at all. 




7T 



$ 



(m 




w 









r\ 




There — what is this upon your coat? 

It isn't mine I know. 
I think I know a thing or two — 

That typewriter shall go." 



61 









s 



SHE DOES NOT HEAR 

-SH-SH-SH-SHE does not hear the 
r-r-r-r-robin sing 
Nor f-f-f-f-feel the b-b-b-b-balmy b-b-breath 

of spring; 
Sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the p-p-pelting 

rain 
B-b-b-beat ta-ta-tat-t-t-toos on the w-w- winder 
p-p-pane. 

Sh-sh-sh-she cuc-cuc-cannot see the autumn 

s-s-sky, 
Nor hear the wild geese s-s-s-stringing b-b-by ; 
And, oh! how happy t-t-t-'tis to know 
Sh-sh-she never f-f -feels an earthly woe! 

I s-s-spoke to her; sh-sh-she would not speak. 
I kuk-kuk-kuk-kissed her, but c-c-cold was her 

cheek. 
I could not twine her w-w-w-wondrous hair — 
It w-w-was so wonderf-f-f -fully rare. 



62 



/"V*>v ./**> 






B-b-beside her s-s-stands a v-v-v-vase of flow- 
ers, 

A gilded cuc-cuc-cuc-clock that t-t-tells the 
hours ; 

And even now the f-f -fire-light f -f-f-f alls 

On her, and d-d-dances on the walls. 

Sh-sh-she 's living in a p-p-pup-purer life, 
Where there 's no tu-tuh-turmoil and no 

strife ; 
No t-t-t-tongue can m-m-m-mock, no words 

embarrass 
Her b-b-b-b-by g-g-gosh! she's p-p-plaster 

paris ! 



63 



THE DAY AND THE SHINGLE 

THE day is done and the spanker. 
So oft in the hands of mother. 
1 s soon to be wafted downward 
On little red-headed brother. 

I can hear the fall of the shingle 
And poor little brother's refrain. 

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me 
That seems to resemble a pain. 

A feeling of sadness and sorrow 
That must be akin to pain. 

It resembles a seated sorrow 

That boyhood can only explain. 

So I hie me away to the attie 

And put on a few pair of pants. 

And wedge in a big paper bustle 
Belonging to one of my aunts. 

I can see the lights of the village. 
And also the deep muddy pool, 
64 




I take a recumbent position, 

The shingle then comes into play, 



ft 








Where often I ducked little brother 

After the close of school. 



But she calls me down from the attic 
And asks me to take off my clothes, 

With her able-bodied assistance 
I get myself ready to pose. 

I take a recumbent position, 

The shingle then comes into play, 

Johnnie sits down in a corner 

And watches the sad matinee. 



c£* 









As she presses her thin lips together 
I feel that at every rebound 

She puts on a vermilion finish 

Where my back forms sort of a mound. 

Such things have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
But it makes it rather uneasy 

To sit on a hard-bottom chair. 



Come read to me some poem, 

Some "Favorite Prescription" lay, 
65 



%?£ 



That will soothe this restless feeling 
And take the stinger away. 

And the kitchen shall cease its sobbing, 
And the cares that infest the day 

Will quietly fold their breeches 
And silently steal away. 



66 



THE RIVER ST. JOE 

WHERE the bumblebee sips and the 
clover is red, 
And the zephyrs come laden with peachblow 

perfume, 
Where the thistle-down pauses in search of 

the rose 
And the myrtle and woodbine and wild ivy 

grows ; 
Where the catbird pipes up and it sounds 

most divine 
Off there in the branches of some lonely pine; 
Oh, give me the spot that I once used to 

know 
By the side of the placid old River St. Joe! 

How oft on its banks I have sunk in a dream, 
Where the willows bent over me kissing the 

stream, 
My boat with its nose sort of resting on 

shore, 



67 






« 



While the eat-tails stood guarding a runaway 
oar : 

It appeared like to me, that they sort of had 
some 

Way of knowing that I would soon get over- 
come. 

With the meadow lark singing just over the 
spot 

I didn't care whether I floated or not — 

Just resting out there for an hour or so 

On the banks of the tranquil old River St. 
Joe. 

Where the tall grasses nod at the close of 

the day. 
And the sycamore's shadow is slanting away — 
Where the whip-poor-will chants from a far 

distant limb 
Just as if the whole business was all made 

for him. 
Oh! it's now that my thoughts, flying back 

on the wings 
Of the rail and the die-away song that he 

sings, 

68 







Bring the tears to my eyes that drip off into 

rhyme, 
And I live once again in the old summer 

time ; 
For my soul it seems caught in old time's 

under-tow 
And I 'm floating away down the River St. 

Joe. 



69 



BABY UP AT BATTEXBERG S 

HEERD 'bout what's happened? 
Why o* course ye has; 
Baby up at Battenberg'.s. 
Hope it ain't the las'! 

Doctor come at eight o'clock. 
Rig all spleshed with clay: 
Dad a-trampin' up the hall, 
Skeery? — I sh'd say! 

Kind o' still roun' the house. 
Folks on tiptoe walk 
Till the door is open 
An' we hear a squawk! 

Doctor whispers suthin' — 
Daddy hollers: "No!" 
Doctor says. "Twelve pounder!" 
Daddy whoops out: 'Sho!" 



70 





itbin' 
Daddv hollers: -No!" 



Daddy — happier 'n a clam ! 
Mother doin' well; 
Baby up at Battenberg's, 
Haven't ye heerd tell? 



71 



THE CAT O' NINE TAILS 

THE old cat o' nine tails is comin' round 
agin, 
An' the way he worries children sometimes is 

a sin; 
He grabs 'em by the collar, an' he yanks 'em 

by the clothes 
An' reaches for a tender place. Why, what 

do you suppose 
Will happen if you 're impident an' set aroun' 

an' grin? 
Well, I '11 have to call the cat o' nine tails 

in — 
Have to call him in; yes, have to call him in; 

in. 
tails 
cat o' nine 
old 
I '11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails in. 
old 

cat o' nine, 
tails 
in. 
72 



T^^N 



Are you sassy to yer father, are you fibbin' 

to yer mother? 
Are you quarrelin' with yer sister an' 

a-pinchin' of yer brother, 
Do you "ring around the rosey" till you have 

a dizzy feelin,' 
And you think you 're goin' round an' round 

an' walkin' on the ceilin'? 
Well, you better stop yer screechin' an' 

a-makin' such a din, 
Er I '11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails 

in — 
Have to call him in ; yes, have to call him in ; 

in. 
tails 
cat o' nine 
old 
I '11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails in. 
old 

cat o' nine 

tails 



in. 



73 



Do you allers mind yer manners when com- 
pany is come? 
Er do you git upstairs an' yell, an' stomp 

around an' drum? 
Do you show off at the table, too, an' try to 

act up smart, 
An' p'int yer fingers at the things an' say: 

"Gimme a tart?" 
If some one doesn't dress you down I think 

it is a sin; 
So I '11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails 

in — 
Have to call him in; yes, have to call him in; 

in. 
tails 
cat o' nine 
old 
I '11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails in. 
old 

cat o' nine 

tails 
in. 



74 



OLD ST. JOE 

OF all the towns that jest suits me 
From Stevensville to Manistee, 
There 's one old place I can't fergit; 
It ain't a great ways off, and yit 
From here it 's sixty miles er so 
In a bee line — that 's Old St. Joe. 

I don't p'tend to write, an' ain't 
One of them air chaps 'at paint; 
'F I was I 'd tell o' scenes 'at lie 
Stretched out afore a feller's eye; 
Er when the sun was hangin' low 
I 'd paint it right from Old St. Joe. 

I Ve seen folks gether there in crowds 
Jest fer to watch the golden clouds 
C hangin' shapes, and sort o' windin' 
Into Aggers, never mindin' 
That old lake spread out below, 
Reflectin' 'em at Old St. Joe. 



75 



Underneath them cedar trees 

Is where I used to take my ease. 

Birds a-singin' all along 

The hedge, an' each one had a song 

An' sung its best to let you know 

They jest got back to Old St. Joe. 

They ain't no purtier sight to me — 
That is, 'cordin' to my idee — 
Than jest to watch the gulls 'at fly 
Round that old pier; an' hear 'em cry 
An' circle round. It 'pears they know 
Fishin' 's good at Old St. Joe. 

Course the people over there 
They don't notice 'em er care — 
What they 're worrin' 'bout is frost, 
An' whether strawberries is lost; 
Yit they 'pear to take things slow, 
Jest the same as Old St. Joe. 

'Ceptin' rheumatiz, their health 
Is middlin' good, an' as fer wealth 
They got that, an' lots o' land ; 

76 




They ain't no purtier sight to me — 
Than jest to watch the gulls 'at fly 



Course the sile is mixed 'ith sand; 

But that \s what makes the berries grow 

Over there at Old St. Joe. 

Take it gener'ly, as a rule, 

A feller likes where it 's cool, 

Where he can sleep, an' drink in air 

That comes perfumed from orchards where 

The peach trees jest begin to blow; 

Then where 's a place like Old St. Joe? 

Such cool breeze blowin' back 
Keeps the skeeters makin' tack 
An' the flies they mostly stay 
Up round Pipestone creek, they say. 
Tell you what, one thing I know — 
They ain't no flies on Old St. Joe. 



77 



x 










HANK SPINK 

HANK SPINK, he said— er Bob did, his 
brother — 
'At he hit a man once for somepin' er other, 
An' after he hit him — I got this from Bob — 
He simply went right out an' give up his 

job; 
Not Hank er Bob, 

But the feller 'at got hit 
Give up his job. 

See? 









He said 'at the wind, er the force of his blow, 
Er somepin' like that, somehow — I don't 

know 
Just now what it was — I got it from Bob, 
'At he got a good swat; not Hank er Bob, 
By a long shot, 

But the feller 'at got hit 
Got a good swat. 

See? 







M 







He said he 'd be blamed, 'at he didn't know 
How he came to strike such an all-fired blow, 
'Cept he guarded his right an' threw the hull 

heft 
Of his weight an' his science, an' hit with his 

left; 
That lost him his job, not Hank er Bob 

But the feller 'at got hit, 
Lost him his job. 

See? 



79 



THE WOODTICKS 

THERE 's things out in the forest 
'At 's worser 'n an owl, 
'At gets on naughty boys an' girls 

'At allers wears a scowl. 
There 's things out in the forest 

'At 's worser 'n a lion, 
'At gets on wicked boys an' girls 

'At 's quarrelin' an' a-cryin'. 
There's things out in the forest, mind, 

An' if you don't take care, 
The woodticks — the woodticks — 

Will be crawlin' thro' yer hair. 

An' they say as boys is naughty, 

An' their hearts is full o' sin, 
They '11 crawl out in the night time 

An' get underneath yer skin, 
An' the doctor '11 have to take a knife 

An' cut 'em off jest so, 
An' if a bit of 'em is left 

Another one '11 grow, 
80 



/r 







An' mebbe you won't feel 'em, too, 
E.r ever know they 're there, 

But by an' by they '11 multiply 
An' crawl up in yer hair. 

The devil's darnin' needle, too, 

'LI come an' sew yer ear. 
An' make a nest inside like that 

An' then you '11 never hear ; 
An' the jigger bugs gets on you, 

An' the thousand-legged worm 
'LI make you writhe, an' twist, an' groan, 

An' cry, an' yell, an' squirm; 
But the worst things 'at '11 get you 

If you lie, er steal, er swear, 
Is the woodticks — the woodticks — 

A-crawlin' thro' yer hair. 









81 



THE TRAMP 

HE came from where he started 
And was going where he went. 
He had n't had a smell of food, 

Not even had a scent. 
He never even muttered once 

Till he began to talk, 
And when he left the kitchen door 
He took the garden walk. 

He said : "There 's no one with me, 

Because I am alone ; 
I might have scintillated once ; 

My clothes have always shone. 
I got here 'fore the other ones 

Because I started first: 
The reason I look shabby is 

Because I 'm dressed the worst." 

Then I asked him where he came from — 
This was just before we parted. 

And he muttered indistinctly, 

"Oh, I come from where I started!" 
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And when he left the kitchen door 
He took the garden walk. 



COMING CHRISTMAS MORN 

I'M goin' to start next Saturday; 
It won't take more 'n a day 
To visit the United States 

In my new toboggan sleigh. 
I Ye sent Jack Frost ahead o' me 

To sort o' find a road, 
So my deers '11 find it easy 

'Cause I Ye got an awful load. 

But they Ye had lots o' exercise 

An' know the way by sight; 
I Ye speeded them to Baffin's Bay 

An' back here 'fore 't was night. 
An' once I drove to Puget's Sound 

An' once to Behring Sea; 
I had to make a trip up there 

To get a Christmas tree. 

I wish 't you all could see my house, 

Built out o' cakes o' ice; 
I guess you think it cold inside, 

But no, it 's awful nice. 
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All carpeted with sealskin rugs, 
An' ermine, mink an' sable ; 

I 'm going to keep it furnished so 
As long as I am able. 

An' no gomphobers in the north 

Can steal round unawares, 
Because my castle 's guarded by 

Two great big polar bears. 
So if a burglar man should come 

An' try to break into it 
They 'ud squeeze his life out in a jif, 

I Ve taught 'em how to do it. 

Just right around behind my house 

Is where I keep the toys, 
'At I am comin' south'ard with, 

Fer all good girls an' boys. 
My big cold storage warehouse stands 

Right by a frozen tarn, 
An' right along aside o' it 

I have my reindeer's barn. 

So never mind, they 're both piled full 
Of everything on earth, 
84 



With Christmas gifts till you can't rest. 

I don't know what they 're worth. 
An' four big sea dogs set outside 

Two walruses, a seal 
That knows so much if you 'd come nigh 

He 'd be the first to squeal. 

The purtiest sight you ever saw, 

'S when things is lit up nights — 
You know we don't have gas up here, 

But use the Northern Lights. 
An' forth from every icicle 

A dazzle spreads away 
'At turns the hull big frozen zone 

Into one mighty day. 

From where I live, I 'd have you know, 

It 's truth upon my soul, 
I don't have very far to go 

To see the big North Pole, 
Where Uncle Sam has pinned his flag, 

There 's where the cold wind pipes, 
An' flaunts the emblem of the brave, 

The proud old stars an' stripes. 

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I 'm coming, children, coming, yes, 

You ought to see my sleigh, 
An' hear the tinkle, tinkle, as 

I speed along the way, 
Through forests bare, o'er snowy plains. 

As sure as you are born, 
Old Santa Claus is coming, an' 

Will be here Christmas morn. 



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HOW OFTEX 

THEY stood on the bridge at midnight, 
In a park not far from town; 
They stood on the bridge at midnight 
Because they didn't sit down. 

The moon rose o'er the city 

Behind the dark church spire; 

The moon rose o'er the city 
And kept on rising higher. 

How often, oh! how often 

They whispered words so soft; 

How often, oh! how often, 
How often, oh! how oft. 



87 



DIDN'T WE, JIM? 

YES, sir; we lived home till our mother died, 
An' I 'd go a-walkin' with Jim, cause he 
cried, 
Till night time 'ud come, an' we 'd go up ter 

bed 
An' bofe say the prayers 'at she taught us ter 
said — ' 

Didn't we, Jim? 

An' pa 'ud stay late, an' we uster call, 
'Cause we thought we heard him downstairs in 

the hall : 
An' when he come home once he fell on the 

floor, 
An' we run'd an' hid behind ma's bedroom 

door — 

Didn't we, Jim? 

She told us, our ma did, when she 's sick in bed, 
An' out of the Bible some verses read, 
Ter never touch wine, and some more I can't 
think ; 

88 




She told us, our ma did, when she 's sick in bed, 
An' out of the Bible some verses read. 




m 



But the last words she said was never ter 
drink — 

Didn't she, Jim? 

But our other ma, what our pa brought home 

there, 
She whipped little Jim 'cause he stood on a 

chair 
An' kissed our ma's picture that hung on the 

wall, 
An' struck me fer not doin' nothin' at all — 
Didn't she, Jim? 

She said 'at we never had no bringin' up, 
An' stayed round the house an' eat everything 

up. 
An' said 'at we could n't have no more ter eat, 
An' all 'at we 's fit fer was out in the street — 
Didn't she, Jim? 

We said 'at we hated her, didn't we, Jim? 
But our pa — well, we didn't say nothin' ter 

him, 
But just took ma's picture an' bofe run'd 

away; 

89 

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An' that 's what Jim s cryin' 'bout out here 
to-day — 

Didn't we, ain't it, Jim? 

Mister, don't feel bad — 'cause Jim's cryin' — 

too; 
Fer we 're goih' ter hunt aif git somethin' ter 

do; 
'Cause our ma 'at died said ter work an' ter 

pray, 
An' we 'd all be together in glory some day — 
Didn't she, Jim? 



90 



ST. PATRICK'S DAY 

MAVOURXEEX, swate Isle, 
I am lonely widout thee, 
I sigh for your hills an' your calm sky so 
blue; 
Shure I niver had cause 
One shmall moment to doubt thee, 
An' whin I 'm not thinkin' I 'm dhreamin' of 
you. 

CHORUS 

So lads, whin I call ye's, 

Come sing your "Come all Ye's," 
Ah! here 's to ould Ireland, byes, ivery toime: 

Och, coleens, be aisy, 

Your dhrivin' me crazy, 
What day of our counthry is one half so 
f oine \ 

St. Patrick's the day, shure, 
It was in the mornin,' 



91 






An' oh! how it graved me, Mavourneen, to 
part ; 
But I left ye's, as I 
Left me mother, a-mournin' 
An' kissin' the shamrock she placed near me 
heart. 

I 'm sorry I left ye's 

To cross the deep wather, 
For the game that I Ve played wid misfor- 
tune 's a draw ; 

But don't ye be ailin,' 

I '11 soon be a-sailin' 
Away to the Isle of swate "Erin go Bragh." 

Then lend me the harp 

An' I '11 wake "Tipperary," 
Sing "By Killarney" wid "Noreen Maureen'/' 

The shamrock I 'm pressin,' 

An' while I 'm confessin' 
I 'm praisin' St. Patrick an' "wearin' the 
green." 



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THE COW SLIPS AWAY 

THE tall pines pine, 
The pawpaws pause, 
And the bumblebee bumbles all day; 
The eavesdropper drops, 
And the grasshopper hops, 
While gently the cow slips away. 









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V^Or 



The poems in this volume have been selected 
from King's complete work, "Ben King's 
Verse," published by Forbes and Company, 
Chicago. 



Gf 










LIBRARY OF CONliHtSS 

IIIIHIIMIII , 

016 117 846 9 • 



